Study In Velvet
by RuthieGreen
Summary: When did it all change? The precise tipping point when the relationship shifted between William & Julia down the path of romance, slipping past the point of no return? For for anyone who likes back story & uses imagination to expand on small moments. Set in Season 1: E1 – 9; Helps to binge-watch Netflix. No plot and no mystery except the only one: how do they get together?
1. Chapter 1

**_I am trying a different story format this time too, semi-epistolary. Since I can't imagine William journaling his feelings (except for marginalia in his experimental notebooks), I substituted confession. Season 1 episodes are mined over and over again for story arcs for the following seasons. Look at "Till Death Do Us Part" in particular. I shamelessly appropriated dialogue segments, ideas from any and all sources, made stuff up, and included a reference to MZB, the doyenne of fan fiction (see if you can spot it!) Thank you Maureen and the writers for letting us play in your world. Please R&amp;R!_**

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Prologue

**Saturday March 17, 1894**

"Ruby! If you are going to help, then _help_! " Julia Ogden hauled on the handles of the trunk, bumping it fitfully up the stairs, while her sister pushed from below.

"I thought by helping you meant, you know, decorating or maybe putting things away, not lifting heavy things and sweating! Oh, look at my skirt, it has a huge smudge on it!" Ruby took her hands away from the trunk to swipe at her dress and nearly caused Julia to lose her balance and her grip on the top handle. Julia braced herself and with an expletive and a heave, brought the trunk to the landing and sat down with a hard thump on the floor.

"There, that is the last one." Ruby smiled sweetly at her sister glowering on the floor. "Why ever did you want to move out of father's house and into this place?" Ruby looked around at the flat and was unimpressed. Her sister had rented it furnished, moved in her clothing and a few personal items, and for some unaccountable reason that was beyond Ruby's understanding, seemed determined to live in it by herself. Alone. "How will you get ready in the morning without Mrs Hastings to help you dress? I can't imagine…."

"Ruby, leave it be. I will manage just fine. Now, I am tired after my very long day and I want to bathe and eat." Julia pushed the hair out of her face, flung her braid back over her shoulder where it belonged, stood up and surveyed her new domain with both hands on her hips. "Since I have no food in the larder, you are going to keep your promise and treat me to supper. I will keep my promise and tell you all about my first week at work."

Julia scrubbed herself in the sink, changed her blouse and she and her sister walked arm in arm to the restaurant. Ruby and Julia soon settled into the hotel's dining room and ordered their food.

"So, did you meet him?" Ruby asked as she sipped her wine. "The bicycle detective you were warned about? Was he as horrid as you thought he would be?"

Her younger sister's blond hair was smooth and perfect, Julia noticed, unlike her own unkempt curls. _Ruby, always the picture of ladylike daintiness, and therefore father's favorite, _Julia sighed to herself. Often at odds, there were also essential allies, and as she had no one else to share her week with…

"Aren't you interested in the murder or what I did this week?" Julia smiled, knowing full well Ruby has no interest in medicine, blood or guts. Ruby adored gossip which is why she probably wanted to be a writer. Julia relented and decided to indulge her sister. "Yes, Ruby, I met him Monday. Detective Murdoch. He got to the death scene before me." Julia's gaze went to the middle distance in thought. "I must say, he has a rather fine physique. All that cycling results in a nice…. posterior!"

"Julia!" Ruby sputtered a mouthful of wine.

"Well, that was the first thing I saw, coming up behind him. He was bent over the body and I did not know who he was. At least he does not wear those stuffy suits like father does." Julia did in fact find the detective quite handsome, with narrow waist and hips, broad shoulders, well-defined mouth, a few freckles and thick dark hair, brows and lashes…_and a fine backside_…

Julia recalled herself back to the conversation with her sister. "He is good looking, but seems quite serious and focused, very correct in manner. A little socially awkward. But he only blinked a couple times when he saw me and then treated me quite professionally according to my role. He even seemed to be able to keep up with the more clinical side of things—a great relief from my previous experience with non-physicians."

Julia leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. "He terrorized the previous coroner with his questions but I find him refreshing."

"Is he single?" Ruby giggled.

"Ruby! Honestly. It would be impertinent to inquire. I have no idea, and besides, romance at work is hardly advisable." This time Julia giggled, the effects of the wine, she excused in herself. "Besides, what would father think?! A policeman of all things. It is bad enough I went to medical school and am employed as a city coroner. I would really have to work to sink lower in his eyes." Julia sighed again and drank a little more.

"Julia, father loves you, you know. It's just that you are so alike….Anyways, go on regale me with your week and make it fascinating, now that we got the important bits out of the way…"

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**p. 92 Journal J. Ogden (1894)**

_Had a great dinner with R tonight. I forgot how charming she can be when it's just the two of us. I will miss her while she is traveling. This week was more difficult than I let on to her, so it was good I had the chance to unwind and laugh. I had never done an autopsy on a child before. Clayton Bowles may have murdered his family but lying in the morgue he looked so young and fragile. I hope I did not betray too much of my feelings about the matter. I am glad to be in my own home tonight and I believe I will enjoy the prospect of living here in freedom. _

_I know Father and R disapprove but that makes it more important for me to make it work. I got through the first week and my first case and it feels satisfying to have discerned the evidence needed to satisfy the prosecutor. There are many fine fellows I will work with and I am looking forward to being accepted as an equal. So far, so good! Detective Murdoch is intriguing and I am not quite sure what to make of him, but I suppose he and I will eventually have to figure out a way to work together. As soon as I settle in a bit, I will reestablish some friendships that have gone fallow since I was away. It will be exciting to have the theatre and music and art at my door again and I am even looking forward to dressing up and going out on the town occasionally. Father, I am sure, will suggest suitable companions for me in short order. I shall resist them all! What I am really looking for is someone who is an intellectual challenge for me. Tomorrow I think I will go back to the morgue and set up the laboratory more to my liking. And buy some food for the larder—I cannot eat out every meal. _

_It is late and I will sleep well_.

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_Chapter 1_

**_Saturday June 1, 1895 _**

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last confession." William Murdoch sat with his head bowed in the confessional, his heart and mind elsewhere, despite his attempts to drag himself back.

"What have to you tell me, William?" asked Father Fair.

"I have sinned in wrath, Father, with evil thoughts of discord for my fellow man. I have been uncivil and uncharitable. Specifically I …."William methodically listed his faults until he ran out of them.

"What of sloth, William? You perform the acts of your faith but your heart is not fully invested in it."Father Fair knew his parishioner well enough to know what he was not confessing to.

"Father? I am on my knees every night…"

"Acedia and Melancholy, are these not sins also?"

William bit back a retort_. _"I miss her, Father. I was angry she died, and now that she has been gone a year I no longer dream of her. It feels like betrayal, abandonment… punishment…."

"William, God created the world and everything it. Rejecting the goodness and life in the world is akin to rejecting God Himself. You will never right yourself with the sin of anger unless you can allow love and happiness into your heart. You must love God with your whole mind and soul".

"Father, you quote Dante?" William shot back with a small amount of humor.

Father Fair smiled, of course _William_ would know the reference. "Wisdom lies in many places and many planes. Look around you, William. Rejoice in the smallest details. Look with refreshed eyes at what is at hand in the here and now. That too is God; that too is faith."

"Yes, Father, I will try."

"Say 2 rosaries and reflect upon these matters. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, Amen."

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**_Sunday June 2, 1895_**

William dressed as carefully as ever for Mass, but found himself hesitating with his tie. He reminded himself he had given up sighing or arguing with himself, and with a grunt, completed the loop, pulled the end through and shoved the knot up under his chin, circling his starched collar. He was grateful the day was Sunday so he would not be facing anyone at the station, feeling too grim for words with anyone, even Mrs Kitchen, who was waiting downstairs for him to escort her to church.

For a while the loss was a raw wound that was inflamed, and then ached painfully, eventually scarring over, leaving a dulled longing in his very being. Yesterday, he had finished his nine days of prayer, paid for a Mass for Liza's eternal soul, and after today he would be officially setting aside his mourning for her, one year after she left him. As he viewed excess as ostentation, he would follow the current custom and give up wearing unrelieved black. Not that he felt any release.

Mrs Kitchen was very solicitous of him and he appreciated her kindness, but he was annoyed just the same, and angry with himself for his temper. _I am either numb or angry, _he observed._ All in all I prefer numb. _

He looked down at his pocket watch, checked the time and settled it in his vest, thinking of Liza and the birthday when she presented it to him.

"_What do you mean you don't celebrate your birthday?" S_he had been astonished that he actually could let the day go by unremarked. Truth be told, since he was a child, no one was ever close enough to him for him to bother sharing the date, as he was obstinately vague with others about this as with all his personal information. Except for Mrs Kitchen, Liza was the only person to ask or care.

Liza chose the watch and engraved it so he would always think of her, and know how much she would always lavish her love and attention on him. Had things gone another way they would have been married and even have a child by now.

'_Always' proved to be a remarkably short period of time, Liza, as you were dead within the year. _ William ground his teeth, and set his jaw. _Well then, let's get on with it. _He stroked the watch pocket reflexively, donned his black suit jacket, found his hat and went slowly down the stairs.

Beatrice Kitchen, his landlady, waited patiently in the parlour with her bonnet on. She accepted as much of a smile as her boarder could muster and took his arm for the walk to

St Paul's, down Ontario, to Parliament and then to Queen. While his manners were impeccable, she noted his mood and allowed herself to just hold his arm and walk in silence. There was nothing more to say, really. She had already brought out his other suits and brushed and sponged them clean, inspected his other ties and put them in his wardrobe. She would take the black tie he wore today, and every day for the last 12 months, and burn it (and its twin) for him, as it was bad luck to retain them. She doubted very much that other people would notice anything in the way of changes in his clothing; he attired himself in the most sober of suits at all times. But it was important to Mr Murdoch to observe the conventions, and she knew that even if he set aside outward manifestation of mourning, his heart was heavy.

Rather than grief fading over the last year, she felt he was becoming more morose. He had complained to her that he was being encouraged to rejoin society, persuaded only so far as to start cycling again this spring with Sergeant Seymour. Mrs Kitchen's motherly interest witnessed him fall into a kind of abyss with Liza's illness, trying to forestall the inevitable, and when he could not, try to capture every moment with her as they ran so quickly away. But he clung to Liza, still.

At the time, she thought it best that Liza and he did not marry, but seeing Mr Murdoch over the last year she was not longer so sure:_ Liza was free now, in the hands of our most merciful God… but Mr Murdoch was not._ She believed he quietly viewed himself as a widower of sorts, but unfortunately with no claim on the status or the compassion that went with it. She prayed every day for his heart to lighten and for him to be happy and care-free again as he once was with his fiancée.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

**_Monday June 3, 1895 _**

Detective Murdoch was at his desk the next day, before the rest of the station crew, trying to look very busy and preoccupied with work so he would not have to be scrutinized by the men or the inspector, and could avoid accepting any looks of pity…

_Or comments on my suit and tie_, which had had Mrs Kitchen's imprimatur early that morning:

"_Mr Murdoch_," his landlady had said, "_it's a charcoal grey and that green tie is the darkest you have. No one will notice. I dare say no one will remember, more's the pity. You just go about your day. There will be beef for dinner." _She promised him his favorite meal and smiled at him cheerfully to lift his spirits, he supposed.

From the chair at his desk, he looked fondly at Liza's picture in his office for a moment, and then put those thoughts aside to pick up his work. Work, church and his wheel encompassed his life, so while he recognized the wisdom in expanding his horizons, he had no idea how to proceed. His other usual enthusiasms had been a balm to his pain, but were of a solitary nature. He was by now unused to small talk and had no topics of conversation fit for polite society, since most people found his work distasteful or shocking, and his interests too esoteric or boring. A case in point was his fiddling with an idea about a device for eves-dropping on potential suspects to gain information that could be useful in investigations. He had his desk-lamp apart on the worktable and the telephone disassembled before Inspector Brackenreid caught him and demanded he stop that "bloody nonsense."

William interrupted himself veering towards self-pity and stopped._ Right then. _

He picked up the first file and started to write, put it down and picked up the newspaper. His attention was caught by an advertisement for a demonstration of electricity this upcoming Saturday in Queen's Park. A little interest stirred, as electricity indeed fascinated him, but he judged it likely to be more carnival than of scientific value, probably not worth his time. He decided he might go if there was nothing else he wanted to do, weather and the job permitting, then set the paper aside and got down to work. By the time the full 8 am shift was present, he was indeed so engrossed in his investigation that he was oblivious to his surroundings….

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**_Friday June 7, 1895 _**

William was exhausted, which made no sense to him, as it had not been a difficult week; no murders, nothing interesting. Never the less his muscles knotted and he had a headache. He finished reviewing the last coroner's report, and was going to take it to the morgue on his way home. He rolled his sleeves down and affixed the embossed oval cufflinks, put his jacket and hat on, and bade good night to the desk Sargent. In a preoccupied state, he went across the small laneway and into the cool air of the morgue, nearly running into Dr Ogden coming up the ramp.

"Goodness, William! Watch where you are going," Julia said as she righted herself. She brushed at some of the smudge his foot left on her green skirt.

"Julia, I apologize. I was lost in thought. Are you all right?" William assessed her mood and decided she was not offended. "I will just put this on your desk." He sidled past her and made to move away when she placed her hand on his arm.

"William, I have not seen you all week." Julia looked at him closely. "How are you?"

He squared his shoulders and looked back, with what he hoped was a pleasant, neutral expression. "I am well, and you?" He saw that she intended more than meaningless banter by her inquiry. He was oddly touched. While he had escaped all other probes for his feelings this week, he was not prepared to dissemble with her. "I have a headache," he admitted, "and am looking forward to some rest tonight."

"I see. Do you want a remedy? I have some in my desk," she offered. "No, not laudanum," she laughed when she saw the look on his face.

He weighed inconveniencing her against the pounding in his head, and nodded mutely, gratitude in his eyes. He followed her back down the ramp, placed the report on top of the pile and accepted a paper packet she gave him.

"It's willow-bark extract, salicyclic acid. I found a compounding pharmacist in the city and I trade him a few things I cook up, for it. Just put it in water and drink it. You can come back and get some any time you need it; I always have some on hand now. "

William perked up and wondered briefly what it was she was cooking up in exchange for the drug, and if he could see it sometime. He thanked her and started to walk away when she stopped him again.

"I am going to the demonstration on electricity in the park tomorrow. I assume you are going too?" Julia asked.

William had not given it a second thought, in fact forgotten all about it. The idea of going with Julia appealed to him and he knew it would please Mrs Kitchen if he got out; might in fact please him to do something different for a change. At least with Julia, he would have someone with whom to discuss it intelligently afterwards. "How would you feel if we met there a little before noon?" he asked.

"I'd be delighted," she replied. "Now, I really must be off. Good night."

"Good night." William followed her out and handed her into the waiting hansom before grabbing his bicycle and heading for his rooms. He decided to ask Mrs Kitchen to pack a picnic for him tomorrow since he had forgotten to ask Julia about luncheon arrangements. After supper, he took his headache remedy and went to bed early, turning his idea about a listening device over in his head as he fell asleep.

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**_June 7__th_**

_Dearest Ruby: _

_Just a short note to you. I hope you are well and this letter gets to you. I am sending it to the return address on your most recent letter to me. Don't you ever stay in one place for any length of time? It has been a rather boring week here, but at least the weather is warming up. I had a lovely stroll this evening with my landlady in the park. I will have luncheon with Father on Sunday and I expect he will have yet another gentleman for me to meet that he will invite along to the meal. Really, this is getting exasperating, as if I am a prize cow or something that he has to show off to potential bidders. I know he means well but I have rather started a game of seeing just how quickly I can run them off by talking about something at my job, the more gruesome the better. _

_You are no help, I might add, always asking if I am in a relationship yet. This is not the Middle Ages when the eldest daughter must marry first before her younger sisters are able. __You__ seem to have no dearth of beaux. If only you would come home and let Father focus on you for a change. I suppose I still go see him, despite our arguments, because it is habit and I don't mind checking in on him. One of these days though I just know we will have a row and one of us will stalk off. _

_Your most recent letter got me thinking about traveling again, and the small package arrived just yesterday. Where did you get such lovely lace? I wonder when I will have an opportunity to visit an exotic location. Are you staying out of the sun? You skin will burn so easily, unlike mine—I just collect more freckles! _

_Work is going well for me, and yes I still enjoy it. Why do you keep asking? I am still working with Detective Murdoch and station No 4. He has been in a foul mood as of late, but I excuse it due to his grief. I think it has been a year since his fiancée passed away. I am surprised he has not mentioned it, but as he has never spoken of her, at least to me, I am only guessing. But then again he is so closed up about personal matters. I despair to cheer him up, and will have to devise a way. Thank you for your suggestion of entertainment. I will be on the lookout for Mr Wilde's play coming to Toronto, since you recommend it so highly. I will write more when I have more to say. Please write soon. Love, J_

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**Power**

**_Saturday June 8, 1895 _**

On her way to the park, Julia decided she was going to launch a campaign to make William laugh—or at least smile. She knew the anniversary of Liza's death had just been marked, and as she wrote to her sister, guessed his week had been difficult because of that. Julia thought it was well-past time for him to get on with things. She sighted him standing next to his wheel, waiting for her at the park entrance. She expected him to be more casually dressed, but, no, there he was in a deepest-brown suit, starched collar and dark maroon striped tie and ever-present hat…on a Saturday. _I guess I expected something different. _ But then, except for the Police Games, or an occasional university lecture, she had never really seen him outside of work before. She got off her own bicycle and walked it over to him. After greeting him they proceeded to the demonstration area, which was already crowded. She noted what seemed to be a blanket-wrapped package on his fender, which he revealed to be a picnic set-up.

_Well, it is a start,_ she smiled in pleasure. But then the horrifying public death of Alice Howard rapidly banished everything but the work at hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Glass Ceiling**

**Wednesday June 12, 1895**

**"****RISK/BENEFIT ANALYSIS of PROMOTION TO INSPECTOR"**

_**BENEFITS TO STAYING:** Good working relationship with the men; Close to my boarding house and church; My office is large and well set up; Work well with Constable Crabtree; Familiar with the geographic area served by Station No 4; Familiar with the communities within the area served by Station No 4; Network of informants already in place; Inspector gives me some leeway; Get to work on my own cases; Few administrative tasks; loyalty to current men._

_**BENEFITS TO GOING:** More pay; build saving;, get out of the debt; More money for experiments, subscriptions and books; More prestige; More challenge; Get away from the inspector's constant blasphemy; Fresh start with no negative associations with Liza; More control over cases and how they are run; No more strong-arm tactics; Educate more of the men on criminalist/forensic approaches; More regular hours?_

_**RISKS OF STAYING:** No way to rise in the ranks; No way to influence other cases forensically; __No raise in pay?; Hard to get out of debt and build savings; Have to deal with current inspector; Less challenge; Less prestige; no one at No 4 can move up in the ranks to detective any time soon._

_**RISKS OF GOING:** No longer work with current men including Const. Crabtree and Sgt Seymour; More work reestablishing myself with new men; Deal directly with Chief Constable; More paperwork and politics; Less actual investigations; May not have as much latitude for new methods/inventions; Less regular hours?_

…William put his chalk down and stared at the board. He hoped by taking a logical approach to this decision it would help him. _Maybe if I assign a value to each one and find a formula…_

William stopped himself. _I don't need to get ahead of myself. I just had the interview, and no one has offered me the job yet… _ He turned the chalk board over and started making notes about where one could obtain or encounter sawdust, when Julia came in to his office with her report. He wondered if she did that to escape the smell of her usual environs.

He decided to enjoy teasing Julia about the rank smell emanating from his own office, considering the power of the occasional stench the morgue and its bodily fluids and decaying corpses could exude. _I might as well have a little fun… _He also had an idea for a device to help her with autopsies. _Maybe I can get that one to work better than the one I just scrapped._

Later that evening he went back to his risk/benefit analysis, swinging the chalk board around and making sure it was not visible to anyone in the bull pen. He noticed he did not put "working with Dr Ogden" anywhere in his chart. This afternoon, after discussing the facts of the current case, she had asked him: "So is it true? That you are applying for a new position?"

When he said yes, _she said she would be sorry to see me leave. _He wanted to ask her more but she escaped him. He picked up the chalk again and his hand hovered over the board hesitating. He was not sure how that should factor in for him.

_I will have to get used to a new coroner I suppose, and then Julia will have to work with my replacement here, _he said to himself. Until this moment he hadn't considered giving up his professional relationship with the good doctor.

The impulse to take a promotion rested in large part in wanting a change at this point in his life. _The plan I had crafted for myself died with Liza… it seems I am at a loss. Why did I think a chart would help me this time? ….. _

He sighed and straightened himself back up, trying to decide where to put "relationship with Dr Ogden" on the board and failing. _Oh, this is not going to work._ Frustrated with himself, he erased the whole thing with a disgusted scowl. _Math is not going to help me with his dilemma._

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**p. 42 Journal J. Ogden (1895)**

_Today was a disappointment. W may really be leaving the station and moving across town. I find that I am feeling very bad about that. I will of course be happy for him—he certainly deserves the promotion, but it will feel odd not to see him as often—or at all. I wish he had discussed it with me-we do talk about all manner of things work-related. I guess I had not realized how much I would miss him if he left. He is about the only one that gets excited about the same kinds of things I do, and he has a fine, logical mind -to go with his athletic build- I can say that here and nowhere else. I told R that I enjoy my job, but would I if W was not there? If W leaves, who will there be for me to actually have a stimulating conversation with? Well, 'Things go as they will, not as we would have them.' Some wise person or other said that and I guess it is true. Maybe I have to start scraping up acquaintances again. Isaac is back in town, so perhaps I can start with him. _


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**The Knockdown**

**Tuesday June 18, 1895**

William stood staring at the photograph developing in the pan in his make-shift darkroom, perplexed about more than the case. He was still smarting from losing out on the promotion to Inspector and a little disturbed that Brackenreid accused him of only wanting to see Fannie Robinson go free because he was attracted to her, rather than it being about seeking the truth. The laws of physics still operated as they should, not that the inspector was usually persuaded by the science. At least Brackenreid was supporting further investigation now, actually suggested a new line of inquiry, and George was on board with him too.

Fannie had made him think about why a person keeps hanging on to a relationship when it was long past its expiration date, but he came to no conclusions there. He was not aware of attraction to Mrs Robinson, and even if there were, he was clearly not the type of man she was attracted to, given the wide disparity between himself and her husband.

He recalled the conversation he had with Julia about the victim, and that he could not resist his curiosity in the matter. He had no other appropriate women in his life to ask about the psychology of attraction - what characteristics in men that women find...compelling._ ..I live in my mind..._

Her answer baffled him even more. _What did I expect? She probably found it absurd that I was asking her to speak for all women everywhere._

A very small part of his mind queried: _That __is__ what I was asking, wasn't it? . _Which he immediately and ruthlessly suppressed.

He was hanging the completed picture up to dry when Detective Crabtree interrupted his thoughts with an announcement there was new evidence. Putting his unease away, he redirected his thoughts back towards finding the truth in this case, hoping he was right about Mrs Robinson.

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**p. 45 Journal J. Ogden (1895)**

_I got to see W conduct an interview today for the first time. It was astonishing! In all our work together I had of course heard his testimony in court, discussed the particulars of a case with him, etc., heard him discoursed on all manner of medical and scientific themes, but I had never actually seen him extracting a confession from a suspect. _

_I am not so sure why I listened in today. He was so assertive… and manipulative! I am glad he never knew I was there because I could not have hidden the surprised look on my face. I usually see him as almost shy, __self-effacing, and rather straight-forward. On the other hand he is an excellent chess player, so subtleties and maneuverings should not surprise me. It was quite masterful how he got to the truth by steering the other man into confessing. I suppose this is a side of him I assumed existed, considering his excellent conviction record. W knows quite well that Mr Beers will be found guilty of premeditated murder once all the evidence is brought into court. I am not sure how I would fair if W ever directed himself towards me in that manner! Anxiety? Or Anticipation? _

_What else do I not know about him? W is usually deferential around me, even when we argue about something. Earlier this week, W veered from sarcastic to ingratiating, but the most intriguing thing was asking me what women desire in a man, of all things! He seemed so serious, and I was unaccountably nervous so I quoted Mr Darwin and equivocated somewhat. What a concept—an intelligent thug! Rubbish. I actually wonder if he was indirectly flirting with me. I must say I enjoy the idea, even if it scares me a little. He is still not laughing at my attempts at humor. I must do better. I have tickets for this Friday for the play R recommended and I invited Father—I hopes he goes with me and does not decline at the last minute and switch himself for a person he wants me to meet. I still need to call on Isaac, perhaps I will ask him to tea at Father's—kill two birds with one stone. They get along well, and perhaps Father will think I am developing an interest and leave me alone for a while._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Elementary**

**Friday July 5th, 1895**

William was waiting with the body while conversing amiably with Mr Doyle, when he noticed a hansom cab approach carrying the coroner to their location. He went over to greet her, making polite noises about disturbing her evening, until he saw her more clearly.

William's heart raced. He had never seen Julia_**, **__Dr Ogden_, he corrected himself abruptly, look that way before. Now he knew what the poets meant by saying a woman was a vision or a goddess…

_Turns out it is not hyperbole after all, _he thought with wonder. He saw her step boldly out of the carriage without any assistance, wearing a velvet gown of deepest purple with a double row of rhinestone decoration, edged with fine lace against her skin, a medallion in rhinestones over her left breast, beading swaying at her shoulders….filigree drop earrings and her hair up, crowned with a tiara…

And he momentarily lost all reason.

He stood there like a post until she asked to see the body. Part of him was vaguely aware he did manage to initiate polite introductions, while feeling like the earth had shifted on its axis.

He had always thought of her as a colleague, with whom he could engage in lively scientific conversations, but now….. He had never seen that much of her—_flesh_—before… _Shoulders revealed, the dress low cut in the back, bare arms as she took her gloves off, décolletage, and even her bosom as she bent over the body,_ _her dress flowing down the curves of her hips and backside_…..

He did not know where to look or cast his eyes and by then it was too late. The images were firmly captured by that quirk of his mind. Captured as well was the unexpected smell of sandalwood… _not blood or carbolic._

While he had understood, theoretically of course, that Jul… _Dr Ogden__,_ was a woman, the reality was…..

_Decidedly not appropriate for me to contemplate! _he shouted at himself.

_She is a colleague, _he repeated, _whom I respect, even admire, and a friend, a sister like Susanna who used to tease and challenge me when we were children together-intimate enough to be cross with or laugh with- I enjoy the intellectual rapport and the excitement of the professional relationship with her, the __platonic__ relationship that made our work together possible- _

And he drifted away….wanted to stroke the nap of the velvet, the satin skin of her neck…..

Recovering himself, he tried instead to be professional and focus on the victim. He helped her turn the body with Mr Doyle's assistance, the doctor kneeling in the earth in her exquisite dress, as casually as if she were in her Holland apron. He noticed he was oddly disconcerted by the give and take between Mr Doyle and her—it was usually he who took that role with her on a case.

The whole situation also reminded him forcefully of their differences in station. He was able to mingle with the gentry without giving offense or publically embarrassing himself, keeping his manners correct and conducting himself at all times as a gentleman. But he had never imagined what it would be like to escort a women of the upper classes to any event requiring a costume such as Julia wore now…

_Escort her__? Where did a ridiculous idea like that come from?_ His heart started pounding again. Fortunately, _Dr Ogden_ and Mr Doyle were engaged enough in conversation to give him time to settle himself down, at least outwardly, he hoped.

It was the guilt and shame he found most overwhelming. Liza…. He wanted, no needed with all his heart, to talk with her, more than the conversations in his mind he had conducted. They had faded over the last year, and the pain was now roaring back.

William brought himself into order during the carriage ride back to the station with Mr Doyle, as he allowed the older man to make a lengthy discourse on Monsieur Lacassagne's methods for comparing bullets. All that was required was to nod and make encouraging noises, so that the writer kept talking. By the time he said his goodbyes at Mr Doyle's hotel, William was able to chastise himself for an aberration of fancy… _As if I were an impressionable school boy!_

He was certain he had not embarrassed himself nor betrayed his consternation. And as he was quite capable of rigidly suppressing himself, he was confident that this anomaly was just that—a singularity never to be repeated. He decided to soothe his mind by working on his little project for the morgue in his office where it would be quiet and he could reflect.

Instead, his thoughts paced in his head like hungry wolves. Awareness of the colorful metaphor just reinforced his distress. _A Turkish saying,_ he thought. His disquiet was intruding again. Here he was making a gift for _Dr Ogden, _while he was wrenched by thoughts of Liza. His usual self-mastery was shredding. He needed answers, needed the truth….

_Needed to see Miss Pansall without delay._ He shut down his task, grabbed his bicycle and fled into the night. On the way he prayed he could accept whatever answers he received. He would take his penance later.

########

**_July 8th_**

_Dearest Ruby:_

_ Thank you for your letter from Mexico. I don't think you got my last one yet. I understand you will be in the States by August visiting Aunt Bertie. I too would find it exhilarating to explore a jungle, but Ruby, you can't stand getting dirty! Or hot! However will you manage? No, I have not seen father since luncheon 3 weeks ago Sunday, we are taking a little break after the fiasco with Mr Downing. And yes, I did go to the theatre to see that comedy you recommended, with a gentleman escort arranged by Father, but I found it (and him) to be a complete bore. _

_ Fortunately I was rescued by a murder. What does it say about me that I prefer a murder scene to a night out on the town? Really I did my best, put on the velvet dress you like so much. I even put on the whole regalia including mother's evening jewels to try and get in the spirit of the thing. I think it was rather wasted on my escort who did not seem to notice the effort I made. I did not even go home to change my clothing before observing the corpse, since my moves to engage any interest in my person failed quite miserably. I think your hopes for me in that dress are well and dashed, so I don't suppose I shall get another wearing out of it, especially since I got a rather large amount of dirt on the hem. And I __was__ in a hurry to get away from having to sit through the second act. _

_ There was a bright spot: I got to meet Mr Arthur Conan Doyle at the death scene of all places. I found him quite charming at least in that setting—and he is up on recent forensic advances, much to my delight. But his lecture on Spiritualism was just dreadful. I would prefer he write his Sherlock novels again, as they are quite enjoyable. Mr Doyle also seems quite taken with Detective Murdoch and his methods. Would it not be interesting if Mr Doyle used some of our cases in his next book?_

_ Speaking of whom, out if the blue, Detective Murdoch gave me the most interesting device for the morgue—it is supposed to help me find bullets by using sound waves. I have not tried it out yet, but it seems quite ingenious. Where ever does he get his ideas? _

_ I have to tell you the most extraordinary thing…the detective went to a séance, can you imagine? -I never would have expected that of such a rational person. And a Catholic no less. I thought that was tantamount to consorting with witches or something. I will have to ask him some time. I have no other acquaintances of the Catholic persuasion, or at least none who still practice their faith that I can ask. You know __my __beliefs in that regard. But it certainly had some kind of effect on him. It__ is__ getting him to talk about his dead fiancée, and I think that is healthy for him._

_ Now, about the gossip from your chum Amy…._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Till Death Do Us Part**

**Wednesday July 10th, 1895**

"Oh, my head," William said to no one in particular, and an uncharacteristic lapse in his usual decorum. His brain was reeling. He followed the body of Lawrence Braxton down the stairs and to the waiting morgue wagon for its trip to the final indignity of an autopsy. He had never considered autopsies quite that way before.

William mentally reviewed the many wrenching conversations over the last days since Mr Merrick was murdered, and the one he just had with Dr Ogden was repeating itself in his head, like one of her records skipping on the Victrola. She called him close-minded, but he felt he was rather experiencing a chasm opening up inside himself instead. They argued, standing practically over Braxton's body, then she nearly stormed out.

Looking at the body and hearing the widow crying downstairs he wondered, _How does love end up this way? How does it go so wrong? _ He was struggling with his conscience in several ways, not the least was feeling he was in part responsible for precipitating Braxton's suicide, and for the brutal interrogation of Jeffrey at Brackenreid's hands. He was not satisfied with the easy answers this suicide provided.

_I have to find a way to apologize, not for having my beliefs but for being unable to hold a civil conversation,_ he sighed. _I am going to finish this investigation one way or the other. And I am going to find another method to get difficult truths out in the open. _His mind was already recalling the contents of a stack of scientific journals on his filing cabinet about measuremenst of distress he planned to revisit..._was it Cesare Lombroso, or Sir James...? _

#######

**p. 50 Journal J. Ogden (1895)**

_This week has been remarkable. I feel so badly for two of the dead men. A tragedy that could have been avoided if this world was a better place, or if they had been able to be honest with their feelings. I hope I am never faced with such a dilemma in my life. I also feel badly for W—_

_I pushed him hard, but to his credit he came around and apologized. I started out being very frustrated with him, but I think I like him better for the struggle he has with his beliefs. W being open to talk about sexual behavior at all was refreshing…he has come a long way with me on that. I cannot tolerate euphemisms and vague or inaccurate language. For goodness sake he has memorized the entire anatomical system, __in Latin__! He has changed since talking with Miss P and the séance. Part of him seems lighter. I hope that he starts calling me Julia again—he has gotten too formal. I believe that he does that to psychologically distance himself – for protection, but from what I have no idea. My campaign to make him laugh continues to flag._

**p. 51 Journal J. Ogden (1895)**

_I re-read my journal tonight and was taken aback at how many of my musings have been more frequently about work or W; or work __and__ W. I must say that is disconcerting. Is this really the boundary of my existence? If so, that may be pathetic. W is talking to me more about his feelings, so perhaps I am just responding to this new development in our friendship. I guess I am trying to reconcile that with his odd distancing. And they say women are hard to read!_

_Enough already. Maybe I need to take a break from journaling to clear my mind._

_########_

**Saturday July 13th, 1895**

William had practically raced to St Paul's, arriving with his heart pounding. When he got inside the building though, he found his feet slowed of their own volition. His courage was failing him, the guilt weighing him down like an anchor. The sanctuary usually comforted him, but today the dread kept climbing. He both needed and shrank from the act of confession, while some greater part of him directed him against his will to the carved wooden door to open it and enter.

After a long moment the partition slid back, and Father Fair greeted him. "Is there something you have to tell me William?"

William faced the black metal grille of the confessional and spoke softly, his mouth dry. "Father I find myself questioning the basic tenants of my faith."

"We all face challenges. Even Jesus did." The priest held his breath and listened.

William closed his eyes and reached for his thoughts, swallowing hard. "Two men are dead. By all standards good men… yet they are condemned to eternal damnation. How can this be God's will?"

"It is not for us to question the will of the Lord."

"But that's just it Father, I don't think I can follow blindly anymore." William heard his own words and felt anguished.

The priest was surprised at William's statement. "Your faith must not waiver."

"I imagine a world that is more compassionate, more enlightened..." William explained.

Father Fair considered his response. "Someday it may be. Perhaps not in our lifetime. In the meanwhile, trust in the guidance of the Lord. Say 2 rosaries and reflect on these matters."

"Thank you. I will." William accepted the response, and was starting his sign of the cross, when the priest.

"William, the man of the cloth you came to me about. What did you decide to do?"

William thought his conscience was clean in this matter, if nothing else, and let a small smile appear on his grimly set mouth. Further investigation had indicated the Reverend may be homosexual in inclination, but by all accounts celibate and true to his vows_. _

"I said nothing." He heard a soft intake of breath from the priest on the other side of the grille, and then the screen closed.

Father Fair waited until William vacated the confessional, curious about the change coming over the other man. He believed William understood how a man might struggle with his resolve, to refrain from acting on his desires. Father Fair said a prayer for William, and then considered how to let Reverend Franks know that his secret was safe. _Their secret_ was safe…


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

** Let Loose the Dogs**

**July 19th**

**_Dearest Ruby, _**

_ I am sending this c/o Cousin Reed, so it may get there before you do. _

_ I have been thinking about Father a great deal this past week. A case we have at work has me reconsidering my feelings about him, or maybe just about fathers and their children. You know he and I butt heads so often, and I wonder sometimes why that is so. I know you say we are too much alike, but is that the only reason? He has been good to me even though I get his constant disapproval. Was I really a fool to think he would eventually be proud I followed in his footsteps? Proud of my independence? I don't have the patience for all the social rules and conventions, even though I know what is expected of me… and is that really so bad? _

_ I worked so hard to become a doctor and I am doing something I love and that I am good at so why is that not enough? Not just for me, but for him? Ruby, your behavior is scandalous at times, but you manage to flow with the tide while I rail against it. I saw up close this week the good and evil that comes from single-mindedly rejecting a parent or an aspect of that parent. And how tragic it is when parents violate basic decency. A person can become blind or stubborn. The wound can be quite deep and end in death. How do I know what is good for me and what will only cause more misery? I love Father, but he is infuriating at times and I am sick of arguing. I feel like he will suffocate me if I let him. I suppose he thinks he is protecting me, but I don't need that kind of protection. _

_ I can usually defeat his arguments with logic and reason, until he angles off into emotional manipulation. Where can I find someone who will just meet me on my own terms? _

_ I really do not think that is too much to ask! _

_ I think I need to let things die down a little with Father. Thank you for letting me vent a little. I do wish you were coming home soon so we can talk in person. And when you do come home, maybe you can stay with me for a few days? _

_ Try as I might, I have few people here I can talk with about important matters. Perhaps in one area Father is right—I need a better social life. I did have a very pleasant stroll in the Toronto Islands this afternoon though with, well, with someone whose company I enjoy, but of whom Father would strongly disapprove. I think I will have to end up choosing what I think is good for me, if I can figure out what that is._

_ Please give my regards to the family as you visit with them—and please don't let on how poorly father and I are getting along (assuming they don't already know!) _

_ ** \- Love, J**_

_########_

William prayed himself into a ball of pain on his knees, without clearing his mind. His father was gone, leaving him with so many unanswered questions. The only respite today was while walking with Julia, looking at the water or the wildlife, talking of nothing. He appreciated her kindness, and warmth, wished he knew how to reconcile his respect for her with his new _awareness _of her….

He turned over again in his bed and stared at the ceiling, knowing he needed to sleep because he needed to get up in the morning. Not even constructing his new hydrosphygmograph device in his head soothed him. His thoughts gravitated to Julia again, and once centered there, he felt some release. He was not curious about this, merely grateful it was so, and allowed it to flow over him and send him to eventual sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Body Double**

**August 14th, 1895**

Inspector Brackenreid decided to poke a little good natured fun at his oh-so-very-serious detective before leaving for the theatre. He was not looking forward to learning Mrs Smart's role in the murder of her husband, and wanted to lighten his mood a little by ruffling the other man's feathers. He had observed the doctor and detective were spending a lot of time together on this case, and needling Murdoch a bit might prove…interesting.

"Oy, Murdoch. What are you doing with that?" Brackenreid asked, pointing to the sepia-toned photograph of Dr Ogden, propped on the detective's worktable. All the other evidence tested for fingermarks had been placed in the evidence box, but the photograph was still sitting out. There were small smudges of black powder on one edge. "She's a good looking woman, the doctor is, but you can see her any time, and that photograph needs to get locked up with the rest of them."

The inspector watched Murdoch go very still, which usually meant the man was trying to hide his feelings. The inspector was actually surprised. _Ah… so there is something to this._

Before Murdoch could react, he continued: "Well, come on with you—we have a play to put on and you get to be the director." He picked up the photo, flipped it in the box and removed it from Murdoch's office, while the other man could do nothing but follow.

_I wonder how this will play out_, he thought. _Romance at work can be a tricky business, I hope they know what they are doing._

_######## _

"William? Detective!" Julia's voice projected from the stage, while she was still wearing the green velvet dress he had picked out for her to wear. "I waited for you. Did it work?" She allowed him to come up the aisle so she would not have to shout.

"Yes, doctor," he said, with a broad smile. "All four confessed to either murder or being an accessory. I am quite pleased." As he said this he rocked a little on his heels and straightened, evincing some pride in the outcome. He reached out his hand to help her down off the stage by the stairs.

"I must say, you looked like you were actually having fun." His eyebrows rose, but she continued. "I watched you with the actors before taking my place with the inspector in that back room. I quite enjoyed this whole case from examining the bodies to dressing up." She gestured to the gown, with her free hand. "I usually only get to work with the dead. It seems the live ones are interesting too." She thought they worked particularly closely and very creatively on Mr Smart's and Mr Green's murders, and that without her he would not have been able to solve them satisfactorily. So decided she was excited and a little proud too. She turned to look at him a she reached the last step. "However did you know it would work?"

Rather than answer her question, he dropped his smile and asked seriously: "Doctor…have you been….drinking?"

She noted the puzzled look on his face, and grinned. "No, Detective, I have not been drinking. That smell is from the dress. Cedar, if I am not mistaken and ethanol – Vodka I would suspect. It is not actually true that alcohol has no odor." She sniffed the dress and offered him a sleeve to investigate for himself. "These costumes are difficult to clean and get stiff and rank over time. The dresser explained it to me as she got me ready."

"But why…?" he asked, inhaling the woody scent.

"Cedar is to protect against insects. Alcohol cleans the dress without damaging it the way plain water would and eliminates some of the smell. They are meant to be seen from a distance, not worn to a social event." She asked again. "How did you know it would work?"

"I have to give credit to the inspector. I was going to take this in a more pedestrian direction; it was he who suggested a full-fledged and costumed recreation." William's attention was meandering a little… _the woody smell, a velvet dress…._

He brought himself abruptly back and cleared his throat. "You and he delivered fine performances." He placed his hands behind his back and stepped away slightly. "Well, good night, doctor," and started to walk up the aisle to the door.

"Detective, where are you going?" Julia asked with a smirk. "I need your assistance."

"What is it doctor?" he said turning around, but not approaching her.

"Well, Detective, I need help getting out of this dress." She watched him carefully for his response. She saw he looked about him and finally noticed they were alone in the theater. He cleared his throat again and his eyes roved around, _looking for help,_ she thought, before settling on the floor in front of her.

"You either arrested or dismissed everybody, including the dresser. I can't get out if this costume by myself, I have tried." When he made to protest she stopped him. "And no I cannot wear it home." She put her hand on her hips and faced him. "There is nothing for it, you are just going to have to unlace it for me." She closed the distance and turned around so he could get at the laces and pulled her hair to the front to get it out of the way.

He stared at her…bustle.

When William made no move to help, she actually stamped her foot and told him: "Neither I nor the dress will bite. We are colleagues working on a case that cannot be closed until we get everything squared away. Including this costume. Honestly, detective, you would think you had never unlaced a woman's dress before…"

She caught herself a moment too late: _what if he hasn't?_ She recovered quickly enough to joke with him.

"I know you got Constable Crabtree in and out of that white dress you ruined with pig's blood, so all you need to do is get the lacings started and I can do the rest in the dressing room." She allowed humor in her tone to soften the delivery.

"Yes, um…doctor, you are right, it is the least I can do considering how I inconvenienced you.

I, er… will be happy to assist you." He reached for the dress, and examined how it was fastened, trying to think about it as a device that needed adjusting…the velvet soft under his fingers and warm from her body.

William hoped Julia could not feel the slight tremor in his hands as he found the start of the lacings and began unravelling them.

"Thank you, Detective, that will be fine." He mumbled his goodnights and left quickly as soon as she released him. _Good Heavens,_ she thought, _will I ever understand what is going on in that man's mind?_

_########_

**Saturday August 17th, 1895**

Standing next to her in front of Eddie Green's grave, William managed to keep his tone light and look at Julia in her deep blue outfit, without blushing. His dreams last night were of her: pleasant…disturbing… ultimately evaporating with awakening.

After he fled the theatre the other night, he had no explanation for his reaction and reasoned with himself that he was simply embarrassed at being so thoughtless in leaving Julia in difficulty. Today, he noted he was feeling happy for the first time in a long while, absurdly so since he was attending an internment. The last one he attended was for Liza…


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

**_August 17__th__, 1895 _**

_Dearest Big Sister Jules:_

_Not sure when you will get this...I __received all your letters almost all at once and have read through the dozen or more of them in one sitting. Some got a little frayed from being forwarded so many times, but it was actually fun to read through them, like one of those flip-books where the image moves as you make the pages jump by running your thumb on the edges of the paper._

_ I hope for both your sakes you and Father reconcile. I think you are both being stubborn and a bit silly, like two elephants pushing at each other and only succeeding in trampling the grass underneath. I refuse to get in between the two of you. I agree he is difficult, but all it takes is a little charm and a little give and he is satisfied. You complain you have a man's mind and that is the problem. Nonsense! You have a woman's mind. But you are stubborn, maybe that is like being a man, I am not certain. And you hold on to your feelings as if they were pearls you are afraid of dropping and losing. Father would melt if you showed him some affection—I know you do love him, so why only offer him sandpaper instead of silk? _

_ I think your world has shrunken in on you—I remember you extolling the pleasures and virtues of travel for expanding one's perceptive and now that I am doing so I find you were so right! What happened? You were more fun when we were younger. You were the adventurous one and I looked up to you. These days you seem to be all work and no play. I am now the explorer and you are…what? Living in your head instead of your heart? _

_ As for your love life, or should I say __what__ love life? What are you waiting for? Or whom are you waiting for? I will come right to the point. If your Detective Murdoch is interested in you, don't you think he would have said something by now? Don't protest. I can read between the lines just fine Jules. Or have you been fending him off by being evasive? Harsh? Elliptical? Conflicted? Or is he a joyless, stiff prude, a __Catholic__ of all things. How __do__ you pick the most unlikely objects for your affections? How can the bold sister I know who faced down all those horrible men at school, shrink from love? Or do you think you will lose your independence if you lose your heart? You ask w__here can you can find someone who will just meet you on your own terms—What about the other person? Who do you think will only defer to you?_

_ Jules, please take some time to examine your heart about Father, about your life, about what you want, even about your love life. If you don't like my words, I will remind you that you appealed to me so I am telling you the truth as I see it. I am not there with you and don't live in your shoes, but I know when you are feeling unhappy._ _You will have to decide what you want and how you want to go about getting it. I love you no matter what. Stubborn can be both a blessing and a curse. Stubborn got you to medical school and to graduate near the top of your class in the past. Make sure it does not destroy your future. _

_ I will not be back in Toronto until at least Christmas, maybe not then. I have gotten an offer of a writing assignment! My first one that I will be paid for. I will let you know my progress. Keep writing me, I will catch up with you soon. _

_ \- __All my love, Ruby_

_########_

**Still Waters **

**Thursday, September 6th, 1895**

Detective William Murdoch was still strapped into a wheeled chair with his hands tied to the arms, in the bull pen of the station house. The term _hoist by one's own petard_ flicked through his thoughts. The lie detector demonstration was a disaster. He certainly demonstrated his distress, quite publically!

"George!" he called urgently, and the Constable came over to free him.

"I don't think anybody noticed that sir. You and her and the liquid." Constable Crabtree gestured with his hand to indicate how the blue liquid in the pnuemograph rose.

He stared hard at the other man. "Get me out of this thing!" _Why on earth did this have to happen? I am going to kill the inspector and Higgins—both! _William ground his teeth and willed himself to be still enough to allow the straps to be unbuckled. _Panic indeed! What was Julia thinking? _

_Well, __that__ was humiliating!_ Julia fumed and she fled to the morgue to hide her embarrassment and try to get a grip on herself. _No wonder it's been "doctor this" and "detective that" for the last few weeks instead of the "Julia" and "William" _it had beenbetween them for the last year and then some, at least in private moments when they were not performing their professional duties.

How would Higgins know William has a romantic attachment to someone before I know? _But, of course,_ she thought, _he is famously discrete as well as closed-mouthed. He never once mentioned his dead fiancée the whole year of mourning, so he can keep things well-hidden. _ She was rapidly angry again.

_So that's what all those questions about what women want__, _the "_detective" _kept posing to her in the guise of professional inquiry, were _really_ about. He was asking me information to court another woman! _And here I thought he needed encouragement to come out of mourning, and he already has a sweetheart! _

Julia packed her medical bag, roughly shoving her equipment inside, as she reviewed every conversation she'd had with himthrough this new perspective and re-evaluated the sudden awkwardness and unevenness between them.

_No wonder he wouldn't laugh at my jokes! _ It dawned on her he must have been trying to recalibrate their friendship, _and failing miserably_ she thought.

_Julia you are a fool!_ She chastised herself. _"A woman always knows when a man is interested_" she told him. _Rubbish, apparently!_ No wonder he looked at her with a trapped-animal expression while hooked up to that ridiculous contraption. He had not told her the truth about his new relationship and was caught out with it, in front of her. For weeks she could have sworn he was trying to tell her something important, and….

_And what?_ _What did I really think he was trying to say? Anything like what I was trying to say to him, or hoping he would say to me? And exactly what was that, anyways? _

She realized now he had accepted her invitations to the park or for a walk, only because he did not have a polite way to decline. That wonderful device he made for her was a peace offering, _or to assuage his guilt_. He involved her in the theatre case because the inspector suggested it, not because he needed _her_ help. _And here I thought he was enjoying my company. _

Knowing the "detective" as she did, he would try to be sensitive to her feelings but it was very likely his new sweetheart was not comfortable or think it appropriate for William to maintain a close friendship with a person of the opposite sex. Was that why he had hoped for a promotion and transfer to a new station house, to remove himself from closely working with her?

_Or he was trying to have his cake and eat it too?_ She thought viciously. _What is worse is that it looks like Ruby, of all people, was right! If he was interested he would have said something… ….Wouldn't he?_

By the time she arrived at the edge of the lake to examine the body, Julia had decided that the only way to cope was to pretend nothing had happened and let William twist in the wind if that was what he was going to do. She valued their working relationship, and yes, friendship, enough to know that her jealousy or interference would ruin a very satisfactory partnership. She was going to try to carry on as before.

_Before what?_ _ Before I realized I was interested in him romantically? Realized too late? _Julia dropped back into her professional demeanor and slammed it into place with a neutral expression, as she asked him to help her turn the corpse over, and proceeded to introduce the deceased, Richard Hartley, to the detective.

########

**Monday, September 10th 1895**

Julia was finding the detective's behavior becoming odder by the day, and she was impatient to get home for the evening after staying late to help him with the Hartley case. She was vacillating between vexation and concern, with bewilderment winning out at the moment. He just said something about not having much of a social life- what exactly did _that _mean? Then it seemed like he was going to ask her something important. His eyes changed too, she noticed the pupils momentarily dilated, the warm brown darken and intensify. She said "yes" and then he just—stopped. Was he taking some kind of drugs?

William came back to awareness of the morgue abruptly, except the room now had no air. Julia was looking at him expectantly and the most he could do was work his jaws apart with effort to ask for his beaker of lung water, the lamest comment he thought he ever made in his life, considering where his mind had been wandering moments before. _Where had __that __come from?_

Julia took her tray and made a hasty exit, deciding a long cool bath and a headache draught were in her near future. _Figure it out_, she sent to him silently.

He stood there as she walked away, clearly doubting his sanity, which made for two of them.

He rolled his eyes at his awkwardness and grimaced. Then suddenly his chest squeezed and his stomach lurched. He had just imagined accosting Julia and worse…that she fully reciprocated his passionate embrace, without the slimmest of evidence. He had never invited her anywhere socially let alone romantically, had never touched her except for a gentlemanly arm, or brushing her fingers accidently in the morgue. They had never shared even a chaste kiss, and he just pictured himself hungrily devouring her lips and exploring her person intimately with his hands,_ and she was kissing back._

In the last few days she had given him her back on more than one occasion, putting more distance between them, but he imagined her, now, willingly pressing her whole body up against his. The thought thrilled him again and he was immediately disgusted because of it- lashed by shameful awareness of his physical arousal, which was not fading fast enough.

He had only meant to ask her if she wanted to accompany him to tea the next day... but if he were honest he also wanted to close the distance between them by confessing his attraction. Somehow knowing that Dr Tash, about whom he babbled nervously, was a previous paramour sparked….

_What, jealousy?..._ _William, you idiot, what did you think you were going to do? How could you imaging she wanted contact like that? _He was still standing there, trying to get his feet unstuck from the floor.

_What is wrong with me?_ William shook himself and was able to breathe again. _Why did I have that vision?_ His thoughts turned darker as he walked back to his office.

_How would I feel if I knew some other man was having such thoughts about the doctor? _Immediately he became angry and repulsed.

_I would be outraged if another man directed his lust at my friend when it was unwanted, or tried to take liberties….. Were all men so base? How have I lost my control? _

Another part of him whispered: _More to the point…_ _how can I tell if she would want my attentions or not?_

William felt stymied. Julia's good opinion of him was paramount. However, he was not completely sure if the problem was that Julia would reject him. _It might prove even more unsettling were she to reciprocate my affection. _

These final thoughts coincided with his arrival at his worktable; he was going to have to pray for guidance later and stop avoiding the confessional. Unable to concentrate in this state, he took a moment, set up his glassware and burner, and called George over to help him by focusing on something tangible over which he had some control—solving a murder.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

**p. 52 Journal J. Ogden**

_I am needing to clear the confusion of my thoughts—the bath and sleeping powder have not worked so now I sit with a glass of wine and this journal again. I stopped writing in here to settle my mind but apparently that was not as helpful as I had hoped. __I have to understand__what I am feeling__. I think I am jealous that W might have an interest in another woman—if indeed he does. That was what I assumed, but now I am not so sure. I have been trying to be polite with W, but if I am honest, I was unaccountably angry and I think hurt. He seems to be trying to make it up to me in some way. He even asked about my love life. Why? I ran into Isaac who told me W was asking about my relationship with him in the past, similar to W asking me about Isaac. W even told me he had no social life—so is that a message perhaps he is not courting anyone after all? This is so frustrating! Trying to figure out what someone else is thinking and feeling is a fool's errand. I need to know what I think and feel. Is Ruby right? I re-read her letter and it gave me pause. Do I want only what is hard or impossible to have? _

_I think I know what I want, whether it is good for me or not._

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**Saturday September 14th, 1895**

William waited to see that it was Father Fair taking confession, and when there was an opening, settling stiffly into the confessional and praying hard for guidance.

The priest slid the partition open. "What have you to tell me William?"

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It has been 7 days since my last confession. My conscience is troubled." William's voice broke subtly_. _

"William, what lays so heavily on your conscience, my son? Troubled times should be calling you to the Church, not keeping you away. Confession helps you stay to the course of true faith." The priest felt troubled about William's demeanor, and the growing infrequency of his confessions.

William stalled, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to wet his tongue. "I have sinned in lust, Father. I am having... impure thoughts that are wrong and I find I cannot control them."

"William, are you confessing you are engaging again in self-abuse?"

William winced_. "_No, Father."

At least not yet, he thought-God forbid! He was appalled at the unwelcome idea of connecting thoughts of Julia with such reprehensible behavior. He prayed he was incapable: _"_My thoughts are about a colleague at my work."

Father Fair was momentarily taken aback. "William, have you acted on these thoughts?"

"No Father, but they trouble me. I seek your counsel and the word of God."

"William, is this related to your questioning about sodomy a few weeks ago? Are you having these lustful thoughts about one of the men you work with?"

"No, Father!…" William struggled between shock and irony. _Of course the priest could not imagine I work with a female colleague, considering what I do, unless that woman was a doxy._ _Certainly not a woman of quality,_

"I am attracted to a woman I work with, a doctor…" He pained at the thought: The only woman I work with, the only woman I really know besides Mrs Kitchen…_ what if this is merely propinquity?_

William's mind jumped_. _He tried to slow down and explain:"She is unique, wonderful….For a long while, since Liza…I thought that part of me was… Father, how can I betray Liza this way? How can I transfer my affections so easily?"William was glad for the grille and the darkness so the priest could not see his face.

"William, you have mourned your Liza." The priest said gently_. _"You are a healthy adult. It is normal to want to establish a new relationship, hope to marry and have children. That can begin with friendship and attraction. What is the impediment? Is your intention only self-gratification? Or are you violating the 10th Commandment against covetousness? Is she married or otherwise promised to another?"

"No Father, neither of those. I think I may…love her. But she is not Catholic…not even a Unitarian," he gave a grim smile. _Closer to atheist,_ he believed but could not say it_._

"You must stay strong in your faith, William. St Paul in First Corinthians 9 through 17 explains the matter best." The priest thought that William was not ultimately made for celibacy, as much as he strove for abstinence, and a new relationship would possibly be a blessing.

He continued: "Not just that it is better to marry than to burn: _'__For the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the believing wife; and the unbelieving wife is sanctified by the believing husband.'_ Perhaps what God has in mind for you is to turn her back to the Lord."

"Perhaps, Father," he answered skeptically. _Because I am the one who is finding that I want to change for her_, he also left unsaid.

"Is she someone of good character? Honest? Kind? Does she keep the Commandments?"

"I believe she is a good, moral person, both very honest and very kind. But I do not know if I can tell her all of how I am feeling."

The priest worried a little that this woman was the source of William's doubts, but said only: "You must find a way to be honest with her when you decide what that honesty entails. William, it is also a sin to lie; bearing false witness is not only about failing the truth regarding others. Have a care you are not falling away from your virtue. Trust in the Lord for solace and use the teachings of the Church for guidance."

"Yes, Father"_._

"You must be more active in your faith, William. Do not surrender your resolve. This is the message of Christ's suffering. Say 5 rosaries and reflect upon these matters."

"Thank you. I will."

William completed his sign of the cross, rose and walked into the sanctuary, noting that the penance was less than he had extracted from himself already, and that Father Fair did not admonish him the way he expected him to.

_I had almost hoped, coward that I am, Father Fair would have outright forbade the pursuit of a relationship with a non-believer_…. _But the job of a priest is not to let a member of his flock off the hook, but to point out the burden of sin,_ as one of his teachers had told him years ago_._

He decided to say his rosaries in a pew where he could concentrate in the stillness. Before folding his hands in prayer he surveyed the cruciform structure and the four great paintings completed in '93 in the sanctuary and side apses. He found them to be beautiful and inspirational, full of the allegories of faith, and recognized he had not really looked up at them since Liza had died.

He blinked at the realization and recalled what Father Fair told him previously: "_Look around you, William. Rejoice in the smallest details. Look with refreshed eyes at what is at hand in the here and now. That too is God; that too is faith." _

William was shaken. _I think Julia is the one for me, and right under my nose this whole time…Did Father Fair guess even then? Did everybody know but me? _He asked himself, reflecting on Higgins' joke in the station house &amp; Brackenreid's pointed comments. _Does __Julia__ know? _He thought not…wasn't sure if he hoped not….

_So, what in Heaven's Name am I going to do about it? _ He selected his pew, fell to his knees and lacing the olive-wood beads through his hands, started to pray the Glorious Mysteries.

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**Sunday September 15th, 1895**

William looked out over the water, admiring the play of sunlight in the wake of the King's Club boats as they sculled by._ Father Fair was right about enjoying the details in the moment._ He also allowed himself to admire Julia's silhouette and her royal blue skirt and silvery vest, as she spoke gently to Miss Fairchild. _The blue complements her eyes_, he noticed. He was looking forward to an opportunity to walk with Julia arm and arm, somewhere, anywhere, for a few moments…

O_r hours…the only way I can be close or touch her without embarrassment. I have not yet even held her hand_. He thought he dreamed again about her last night, something wrapped in purple, but it had faded by the time he was dressed. Julia had been perturbed with him for a while, but as that seemed to have resolved, whatever that was about, he was happy it was over. He had some small bit of optimism that there was a way for him to win her affections.

When Julia turned back around to meet up with him, William hoped that his statement about it taking a special woman to walk away, registered with her the way he intended. He realized that Julia had given up a great deal more than he had accounted for when she decided to violate myriad social conventions, become a doctor, and then to stay on as coroner. She used his first name _"William",_ and invited him to have coffee. He found he could only say yes to her, stammer "yes" to anything that allowed him to spend time in her presence, until he worked up a plan for telling her exactly how he felt, and figure out if she was receptive. _There was always hope._

Julia took his arm for the walk to the club house for coffee, happy that he accepted her invitation, even if he still called her "doctor."

_He also smiled a little_, which pleased her even more. She noticed he seemed to take extra care in his attire today. His eyes were a warm brown, with the light of the water sparking in them. She understood perfectly well that he may not like the coffee but wanted to spend some social time with her. She also noticed he was even more attractive when he allowed himself a pleasant indulgence or two.

_If he does have a sweetheart,_ Julia thought as she walked arm and arm with him, _I'm going to give that woman a run for her money!_

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**Thanx for reading. If you choose, binge-watch S1 - 1-9 and tell me if you think I got it close to right. Presages the "Red Velvet Dress" on New Years... Thanx again to Fallenbelle2 for inspiration- -I got this idea after posting a comment to her on the idea of "plot" to one of her stories. **


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